How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought

You may linger in my gartden for as long as you wish; but remember, my child, that the new world awaits you, and this place is only a dream.

Byron: We barely even scavenge anymore.
Alcatraz: You call it stagnation, I call it balance.
Byron: And I call you an idiot.

Collective action can change the world when it's deliberate and based in reason, but it can also become a mental trap, or a societal pressure valve.

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.